Shaken, Not Stirred
by Reinamy
Summary: Cloud hid a grimace behind his cup. He hadn't realized he was being so obvious. Then again, this was Tifa, who'd known him since he was three. As the recipient of his first awkward crush she likely knew the signs of an infatuated Cloud better than anyone. Modern AU.


**Title: **Shaken, Not Stirred

**Author: **Reinamy

**Pairing: **Cloud/Genesis

**Rating:** PG-13

**Warnings: **Modern AU, age disparity, mild language and sexual themes, romance/pairing-centric, etc.

**Summary: **_Cloud hid a grimace behind his cup. He hadn't realized he was being so obvious. Then again, this was_ Tifa,_ who'd known him since he was three. As the recipient of his first awkward crush, she likely knew the signs of an infatuated Cloud better than anyone.  
_

**Disclaimer:** This is non-profitable fanwork. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Note:** New fandom, ya'll!

Anyway, this is a holiday gift-fic for my friend _Kellie _who requested _"Cloud and Genesis meet at 7__th__ Heaven and sparks fly". _Kellie and everyone else, please enjoy!

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_**Shaken, Not Stirred**_

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The guy seated at the opposite end of the bar was hot. Like, _smoking hot. _And considering the group of unfairly attractive men situated around him, it said a lot that Cloud was able to pick him out from the crowd.

There was just _something _about him that kept drawing his eye sideways. Something that made him want to close the distance between them, made him want to figure out if the ever-present smirk that curled at the edges of the man's mouth tasted as wicked as it looked. Beneath the overhead lights the man's hair seemed to _burn, _threads ofcrimson and garnet fanning the sharp contours of his face, and he _ached _to reach out, to smooth and tangle and smooth again, to study the striking contrast it made against Cloud's pale skin.

The brunette sitting beside the object of his infatuation said something to make the man tilt his head back and laugh and Cloud downed the rest of his beer to ease the flood of heat pooling in the pit of stomach. _Gods, _but he was gorgeous. His outline consisted of sharp angles and firm slopes, signifying a strong musculature, and time again Cloud's eyes were drawn to the wiry muscles that strained against his pristine dress-shirt whenever he moved.

He was _intoxicating_.

"You've got a bit of drool there," a familiar voice sounded in his ear, and Cloud twitched in surprise before subtly wiping his mouth, unsure if he was being teased but not willing to risk it.

He leveled an unimpressed look at his longtime friend, Tifa Lockhart, as she did a poor job of concealing her amusement.

"You want another?" she asked after a moment of laughing at his expense, gesturing towards the glass he'd just drained.

Cocking his head, Cloud considered his current level of inebriation and, after deeming it safe enough, muttered, "Please." He could withstand two, perhaps three more before the lethargic buzz he was experiencing toppled into wasted territory—and _no one _wanted that, least of all him. Cloud was not an attractive drunk. Completely at odds with his characteristic stoicism, he became _chatty. _And friendly. Inappropriately so, if the complaints his friend, Reno, had made the last time they'd gotten drunk together was anything to go by.

The last thing he wanted at the moment was to look stupid in front of the Adonis (as he'd taken to calling him) over there.

A minute passed before Tifa returned, drink in hand, and she slid his glass across the bar with practiced ease even as she peered at him shrewdly. "So. Are you going to tell me who's been drawing your eye all night? Or am I going to have to guess?"

Cloud hid a grimace behind his cup. He hadn't realized he'd been so obvious. Then again, this was _Tifa, _who'd known him since he was three. As the recipient of his first awkward crush, she likely knew the signs of an infatuated Cloud better than anyone.

"The redhead," he said eventually, not wanting to draw it out.

He glanced up when Tifa let loose an appreciative whistle. "Oh, yeah, he's hot. I mean, that whole group is, but he's another category onto himself. Though personally I'd go for the guy with the goatee. I mean, have you seen his _arms_?"

Cloud didn't have to look up to know who she was referring to. Goatee was the reason Cloud hadn't conjured every ounce of courage he had and ordered Adonis a drink. The two of them were sitting a little too close together to be considered mere friendliness, and twice now he'd caught the two of them with their heads bent close in a discussion. It screamed of intimacy, and at this point, Cloud was almost eighty percent sure the two were an item.

Not that it stopped his eyes from wandering or anything.

_Or_ curbed his desire to head over there and lick a wet stripe up that long, tantalizing neck, which was currently being arched as the man tipped his head back to laugh.

Honestly, it wasn't fair. Being that good looking should be _illegal. _

"—loud? Earth to Cloud? Is anyone up there?"

Another jerk, and Cloud shot Tifa another disgruntled look at the note of teasing in her voice. The woman only laughed, tucking a loose strand of brown hair behind her ear before she tweaked his nose and sauntered away toward one of the many patrons who were vying for her attention.

Cloud rubbed his violated nose and muttered under his breath about finding other bars to go to, preferably ones his best friend _didn't _own. Sure, he'd lose the small discount Tifa granted him, but he wasn't all that sure it was worth the merciless teasing he was forced to endure whenever he wanted to let loose.

_At least,_ Cloud thought, setting his glass down with a heavy thud, _Yuffie and Reno aren't here. _

Small mercy, that.

The soft tune streaming through speakers changed, shifting into something rougher, jazzier, more sensual, that he vaguely remembered hearing on the radio. It wasn't his usual genre of preference but it was catchy, enough so that he found himself swaying to the hypnotic rhythm, his lips moving to mouth lyrics he somehow knew.

It didn't take long for him to lose the battle with himself and glance over to where Adonis sat. He looked over, eager to get another glimpse, and promptly froze when his gaze connected with a pair of pale blue eyes.

Adonis was looking _straight at him, _that perpetual grin full on display, and Cloud hastily looked down, feeling a flush rise on his traitorous skin.

_Shitshitshit, _he thought, heart pounding so hard it was drowning out all noise in the background. He took a moment to regain his equilibrium and slow his breathing before he chanced another glance sideways, half-expecting to find the man looking elsewhere.

But no, the man was still staring in his direction, and clearly amused at Cloud's tentative peaking if the way his grin stretched wider was any indication. Adonis winked, lasciviously, and _oh, _Cloud was done for. He turned his face away, knowing there was little to be done for the blush he was sporting except to wait for it to fade. He only hoped the man couldn't see the evidence of his attraction from way over there.

From that point on Cloud kept his gaze firmly on the stretch of mahogany in front of him. He could almost feel the burn of Adonis' gaze as he dragged the bottom of his glass through the wet rings on the bar top and it took every ounce of self-restraint he possessed not to look over.

He was being ridiculous, he knew. Anyone else would have _jumped _at the opportunity he'd been presented with. Staring indicated interest, didn't it? And interest reciprocated was a _good _thing_. _And yet, he couldn't quite bring himself to meet the man's intense stare and make his interest known. Perhaps if Adonis had been _less _Adonis-like Cloud could have scrounged the courage, but as it was, he felt long ago inadequacies of his own strange features tug at his consciousness.

He'd come a long way over the years in terms of taming his inherent, and often debilitating, shyness, but every so often it reared its head and Cloud didn't quite know how to deal with it. Like now.

Lost in thought, he failed to notice the sound of wood scraping tile as the stool beside his was pushed back so someone could occupy it. So when the stranger said, "Hey," directly in his ear, breath hot and moist as it ghosted over his sensitive skin, Cloud startled so badly he nearly knocked his glass over.

In one quicksilver move the man reached out and steadied it before it could tip over. Some liquid worked its way to the bar regardless, but frankly, Cloud couldn't be bothered to care about the mess. No—Adonis, who'd apparently taken the liberty to sit next to him when he'd been distracted and was currently looking at him with open amusement, held that honor.

"S-sorry," Cloud said, inwardly cursing himself for stammering like a _preteen country girl._

"It's quite alright," Adonis said with a careless shrug. He brought his damp hand to his mouth and, with unwavering eyes, gave it a slow, sinful lick.

Cloud stared, incapable of doing anything else.

"Mm," the man murmured, lowering his hand and giving Cloud an approving look. "_Banora Gold_. My favorite_." _

And now it was Cloud's, too.

"So," Adonis continued, leaning forward to brace crossed arms against the bar. He gazed up at Cloud beneath long, crimson eyelashes and smiled slowly. Wickedly. The expression went straight to Cloud's groin. "I'm Genesis Rhapsodos. And who might you be?"

It took a moment for him to gain enough bearing to say, "Cloud. Cloud Strife," without stuttering. If it came out sort of breathy, well, there was nothing to be done for it.

Usually the revelation of Cloud's unusual name sent eyebrows quirking upwards. In more severe cases it often earned him snorts of derision or muffled laughter. Genesis, however, seemed almost _thrilled _by that information, though why he wasn't sure. The redhead repeated his name, deliberately drawing out its syllables as if to taste, to savor, and in that moment Cloud didn't think he'd ever loved hearing someone say his name so much.

"_Cloud Strife_. How unique. It certainly has a nice ring to it."

"Thank you," Cloud murmured, flushing at the compliment. "Yours, as well."

"Doesn't it just?" Adonis—no, _Genesis _said, grinning up at him.

Cloud usually found such displays of conceit unappealing. Contrary to the popular (and misguided) belief that those of more…subtle constitutions were attracted to their polar opposites, Cloud had never been particularly attracted to men and women whose confidence came in massive doses. To him it bordered on arrogance, and arrogance only brought to mind long ago memories of bullies.

And yet, Cloud wasn't turned off. It seemed almost _fitting_, somehow. Suitable. And rather than stare back dispassionately, he found himself rolling his eyes at the man's gall, amused despite himself.

Which in turn seemed to delight his new acquaintance further, who appeared rather pleased. "So, Cloud Strife. What is it that you do?"

The normal, easy-to-answer question made him relax somewhat. Small talk wasn't necessarily his forte—neither was conversation in general, if he was being honest with himself—but he could make do, and hopefully without sounding like a bore in the process. Licking his lips—and biting back a grin when Genesis' eyes dropped to track the movement—he replied, "I'm a student. Uh, second year at Avalanche University. Mechanical Engineer major."

It was hardly a stellar display of articulation, but at least he hadn't resorted to grunting monosyllables.

Still, it was a relief when Genesis leaned forward in interest. "Mechanical Engineering? _Impressive_."

Cloud ducked his head in pleased embarrassment, feeling his face burn. After a moment he peaked sideways and murmured, "Thanks. And you?"

He breathed easier when the older man didn't look all that turned off by Cloud's obvious shyness. If anything, Genesis seemed even _more _fascinated, and stared at the blond with something akin to wonderment whenever he elicited such a response from the him.

There was an edge of something else, too. Something searing and intense that gave the impression of desire. And loathe as Cloud was to get too far ahead of himself, to see codes where only simple digits existed, he couldn't help but latch onto it. Knowing that the man possibly wanted Cloud in the same desperate way Cloud wanted him was an electrifying, whelming rush. It made him feel bolder and braver; made him straighten his spine and square his shoulders rather than slouch into himself as he sometimes tended to; made him meet Genesis' gaze no matter what he saw shimmering there, and hold it even when he felt impelled to look away.

Cloud didn't think it was coincidence when their legs aligned beneath the bar, or his imagination when he felt fingers brush against his arm, or wishful thinking when Genesis' eyes appeared to have darkened several degrees when Cloud took a long swig of his beer and licked the remnants from his lips.

The storm of emotions, of _want,_ brewing inside him made him feel intoxicated. _Alive. _

Genesis, it turned out, was a literature professor at ShinRa University. Words could not describe how relieved he felt that the man taught at an alternate site. It would have been awkward—and potentially problematic, if he was reading their current situation right—if they'd attended to the same school.

Cloud also discovered that he was twenty-seven years old—making him eight years older, rather than the four or five he expected. Cloud had blinked in surprise when it was revealed, because Genesis did _not _look like he was two years shy of thirty. When he said so, Genesis had laughed, proclaimed in that beguiling way of his he thought the same, and thanked him for the praise. And then promptly asked if it changed anything.

It didn't.

They talked—about Cloud's studies and Genesis' research and hobbies that neither of them shared. And sometimes Cloud fumbled over an answer or spent too much time thinking of one and it got awkward, but Genesis was quickly proving himself to be a competent conversationalist and seemed to have no trouble steering it back on track and smoothing out the rough edges to ensure it flowed better.

Cloud learned that the group Genesis had come in with were his friends. That Goatee—Angeal Hewley—and the man with the silver hair—Sephiroth Cain—were dating (he'd already figured out that Genesis was unattached, but it was nice to have it confirmed). He learned that brunette was Angeal's little brother and had been intending to make a move on Cloud—

("Zack's exact words were _'that blond over there is so hot I could light a match on him'_. Crudely put, though nevertheless true."

Cloud covered his face with his hands.)

—but Genesis, a self-proclaimed bogart who was never one to remain passive and let others have the first shot, had made one first.

("Smart move on my part, I have to say. Your company's been astoundingly delightful."

"Stop it. I know what you're doing. You're just trying to get me to blush."

A finger tap against his hand before it boldly slid up his forearm, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. "Nonsense, Cloud. Everything I've said thus far is true. Your remarkable ability to turn that marvelous shade of cerise is only a bonus. Ah, yes, just like that.")

He couldn't remember ever enjoying himself so much before, made evident by the constant half-grin that refused to fade. More than once Tifa had come by in ruse of asking after them, only to waggle her eyebrows suggestively when Genesis' attention was diverted. Cloud would have been bothered by it if the sum of his attention weren't directed elsewhere.

Namely the shine of Genesis' eyes when the light hit it just so, and the crinkles that erupted at the corners when he smiled, and the sight of his long, slender fingers wrapped around the stem of his flute, fingertips tracing patterns against the upswell as he watched Cloud over the gleaming rim.

The sheer magnitude of the man's gorgeousness shouldn't have been possible.

And yet, for some bizarre reason, he was interested in _Cloud. _

"_My friend, the fates are cruel; there are no dreams, no honor remains." _

Cloud, who had finished telling a story of one of the many occasions his sadistic physics professor, who had an inexplicable vendetta against him, had tried to sabotage his GPA, quirked an eyebrow.

"_LOVELESS_?" he asked after a moment of trying to place the verse.

A blink of astonishment, and Genesis promptly brightened and leveled him with a look of such unrestrained enthusiasm that Cloud couldn't help but echo it, his own soft grin pulling up at the corners as something in his chest _liquefied into goo_.

"You recognize it?" he asked, somehow looking five years younger.

Clearly the man loved the play, if his exuberance was anything to go by, and Cloud had never felt so grateful that he'd chosen that particular literature course instead of its easier alternative, _Contemporary Novels_.

"Yes. We studied it in one of the lit classes I took freshman year. My professor was…enthusiastic." To say the least.

"Which attests to her exquisite taste in literature," Genesis was quick to say, and then went on to wax poetic about the ingenuity of the play, the flawless and ethereal quality of its verse, the profoundness of its apologue, the unparalleled depiction of love and friendship and hardship and sacrifice, the trials of human ethics and vices, and the tribulations of war.

On and on he went, and Cloud simply watched him, utterly charmed by his vivacity. Genesis seemed like a completely different person almost, passion making his gestures freer, his expressions livelier, his speech less controlled. Cloud nodded and inquired and remarked when necessary, but was otherwise content to let him talk.

And then his friend came up behind them and told Genesis it was time to leave (something about making the opening of a show—Cloud hadn't been paying attention, stuck on the realization that _Genesis was leaving_) and all too soon it was over.

Genesis pulled on the long coat his friend brought over, shared a _look _with the man_, _and turned to Cloud as his friend sauntered off with a shake of his head.

"It's unfortunate that we'll have to cut this short," he said, watching Cloud calculatingly.

Shoving down the churning disappointment that was rising in his gut, he nodded shortly and sipped at his drink in an attempt to moisten his dry mouth. "Yes. I…I enjoyed talking with you. A lot."

That earned him a genuine smile, and Genesis slowly brought his hand up to rest against Cloud's arm. Even through the layers of his shirt and sweater Cloud could feel it burn like a firebrand. He'd harbored hope of learning what it would feel like to be touched without the barrier of cloth, to discover if Genesis' skin was as soft as it looked, but that hope had gone up in smoke. Genesis was leaving.

"I'm _very _glad that you feel that way," he murmured silkily, dragging his palm up 'til it reached his shoulder. He squeezed lightly and Cloud leaned into it, body reacting without his permission.

_That _response seemed to please Genesis, seemed to embolden him. That same hand continued to inch higher, until it was resting on the juncture of his shoulder. Cloud _shivered _when those sinfully dexterous fingers brushed the nape of his neck, tangling into the downy hairs there. His eyes fluttered half-mast when Genesis leaned in and whispered in his ear, "_Very _glad."

Cloud's heart was pounding, and it was taking all his strength not to throw his arms around the man's shoulders and _taste _that lush mouth, to feel intimately the heat of his breath, to taste the wine he could smell wafting from his tongue.

He felt feverish and knew it was being reflected in his gaze. It was alright, though, because Genesis looked the same, pale eyes hooded as he watched Cloud come undone with that single chaste touch.

"I want to see you again," Genesis said abruptly, pulling away and stealing the searing heat and electricity with him. Cloud ached at its loss.

"Me, too," was all he could bring himself to say.

It was enough for Genesis, whose grin was strikingly reminiscent of the Cheshire cat from _Alice and Wonderland. _ "Wonderful. I'll be here again tomorrow, same time. If you're not indisposed, I would very much like to see you here."

Cloud blinked twice as his brain worked to process that. Genesis wanted to see him again. Wanted to see him again _tomorrow_. Was apparently just as affected, just as interested, as Cloud was. It was a struggle not to grin like a besotted fool and revert to the bashful idiot he'd been an hour ago.

That brought him up short. Had it really been that long, he wondered. It certainly hadn't felt like it.

"Sure." Realizing how dispassionate that might have sounded, he hastened to say, "I mean _yes_. I'll be here."

Genesis chuckled lowly, and Cloud very nearly came undone. "I'm relieved to hear that," he breathed, which Cloud could have rolled his eyes at because _seriously? _He hadn't exactly been subtle in his attraction. Before he could retort someone shouted Genesis' name from across the bar, and they both glanced in the direction of the entrance before looking at one another.

"Tomorrow, then. I look forward to it." And then he was backing away, eyes trained on Cloud like he couldn't quite bring himself to look away.

Cloud gained courage from that. He took a deep breath and spoke the words that sprung to mind. It had been a long time since he'd read them, and there was the risk of reciting it wrong, but…but he wanted to leave an impression. Wanted himself to be so firmly imprinted in Genesis' mind that the man could think of nothing else until they met again. Wanted to get beneath his skin just as thoroughly, just as deeply, as the man had gotten beneath his.

Quietly, but surely, Cloud said, "_Even if the 'morrow is barren of promises, _nothing _shall forestall my return." _

When the heat in Genesis' eyes intensified and a startled smile bloomed across his face, Cloud knew he'd said the right thing.

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_**The End.**_

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated!


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